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She has a point, and she knows it better than anyone. Over the last couple months, they’ve made it obvious they have the power to do whatever they want. If we think we’re safe, we need to think again, because we’re never safe and we’re never one step ahead.
Four loud booms echo through the bar as each balloon pops, startling all of us. I shield Laiken while Cam shields Mali. But when it stops, we turn back around to see blood dripping from every surface within ten feet of the balloons. They must have been filled with it, like a giant water balloon, and they were designed to pop so it it would create a bloodbath.
Chances are it’s fake, but as soon as we’re done dealing with all this shit, I’m demanding we all go get HIV tests.
TRACKING RILEY’S PHONE, WEgo to her apartment, hoping to find her there. It’s a small studio apartment above a realtor’s office. It may not the best area I’ve ever seen, but it’s not terrible. Still, she has to be spending more than what she makes at the bar to live here.
We try knocking on the door, but no one answers. Mali moves Cam out of the way and pulls a bobby-pin out of her hair, dropping to her knees as she starts to pick the lock.
Cam stares down at her like he doesn’t know who she is. “Okay, this shit is getting a little out of hand.”
It only takes her a second to get the door unlocked, and she pushes it open before standing back up. “What’s wrong? Are you intimidated by a girl that can handle her own?”
“No,” he growls. “I’m just wondering how the fuck you know how to pick a lock.”
She shrugs. “Whenever I was grounded, my parents would lock my phone and computer in their closet when they went to work. I learned how to pick locks so I could get to it, and then I’d put it back before they came home.”
Cam purses his lips. “Okay, fair enough. Carry on.”
I roll my eyes, and we all step inside. The place looks innocent enough. There’s a bed against one wall with a dresser across from it. There’s no TV, but it’s what you’d expect from your typical twenty-one-year-old.
Or at least until Laiken opens the closet.
“Holy shit,” she says.
We all gather around, staring in shock at the montage in the closet. There are articles from Monty’s disappearance, his obituary, pictures of each of us that we never knew were taken, and finally, a map with each of the different places we ever went with Monty all marked out.
As my eyes scan over everything, it dawns on me that while I was devastated about Laiken leaving, I unknowingly hired the exact person that made her go. The thought of that irritates me to no end.
“Next time I tell you two I don’t like someone and you don’t believe me, I’m going to remind ya’ll of this,” Mali tells Cam and me.
I chuckle because I can’t even deny it. This whole time, she was right. “Noted.”
“Found her phone,” Cam says, picking it up off her bed. “Don’t know how we’re going to find her now, though. Can’t track a phone that isn’t on her.”
“If I had to guess, that’s not a coincidence,” I tell him.
Laiken looks deep in thought, and I watch the moment the lightbulb goes off. She rushes over to the bed and opens up the computer that sits on top.
“Lai-Lai,” Mali singsongs. “Now is not the time to be checking your email, baby.”
Laiken rolls her eyes but doesn’t respond as she types something in. Whatever it is, she must be onto something because she is pecking away with great concentration. And finally, she smiles.
“I’ve got it!” she says, spinning the computer around to face us. “Riley wears an Apple watch, and you can track those through her Apple ID.”
Right there on the screen in front of us is a little dot, moving across the water—heading straight for Slaughter Island. That must be where she was told to come once she finished up. It makes sense. They’re getting things ready for the end of this.
And quite possibly, the end of us.
WE DRIVE DOWN TOthe docks, finding Riley’s car carelessly parked off to the side. It almost looks like she was in a rush, but if she knows we’re onto her, that could definitely be why. She knows she can’t take the four of us on. The last thing she probably wants is for us to get her alone.
Cam goes over to the car and finds the doors unlocked. There isn’t much inside, but when he pops the trunk, all the evidence is right there. Spray paint cans, the envelopes and note cards, the sinkers the balloons were tied to, and lastly, a burner phone. We turn it on and find plenty of the anonymous text messages that were sent to us, but nothing sent to her ringleader.
“So, what do we do?” Mali asks.
Running my fingers through my hair, I give Cam a look and I know we’re on the same page.
“We go now,” he says, so I don’t have to.
